Chapter Text
The portal is gone when they turn around, which is a first.
This doorway hadn’t been an easy find; though it was out in the open, it was also surrounded by low-level monsters. This wouldn’t have been a problem had it not been for the infection thriving in their blood, and by the time the heroes left the clearing through the portal at the edge of the wood, Hyrule had a nasty gash along his forearm. He refused to take a health potion due to their low stock, instead healing it himself. It’s nothing more than a scar now, and the sun warming his skin is warm and welcome after a long week spent trekking through the rainstorm-prone forests of Wild’s Hyrule. Wind seems to revel in the newfound sunshine, too, flopping onto his back as soon as he’s found his footing.
“No going back, I guess,” he says, grinning up at the older hero.
Legend laughs, his eyes empty of mirth. “This should be interesting.”
Hyrule squints against the sun, which, at its highest point, spills golden light across the land and makes the heroes squint. The blue of the surrounding sky is a uniform expanse of beautiful monotony, cloudless and dip-dyed a vivid cornflower. The whole world seems to echo this sentiment of perfection, as the land stretches flat and uninterrupted in every direction, a plain lacking hills, lacking trees, lacking water, but not lacking flowers. It is as though whoever had formed the terrain decided they were going to use the copy-paste tool and nothing but the copy-paste tool, and the result was a desert of flowers, a never-ending sea of the stems and petals and leaves of thousands of species, of sickly-sweet perfume, and of not much else.
“This can’t be natural,” Wild says, wrinkling his nose.
“Nothin’ natural is this repetitive,” Twilight says.
Warriors frowns, kicking at the ground. “Where did something like this even come from?”
“The Shadow?” Wind offers, his face scrunched into an expression that is probably supposed to be one of confusion.
“Has to be,” Four says from where he kneels on the ground, examining the leaves of a feathery purple blossom that stands at his feet.
“What, are you friends with the flowers, now?” Legend asks.
“I’m intrigued; I don't think I’ve seen this species before! I mean, it’s pretty! And no, I’m not friends with the flowers!” Four splutters. Legend rolls his eyes.
“I, for one,” Hyrule declares, “shall find the edge.”
“ No .” Time grabs his sleeve, and Hyrule pouts.
Legend groans, running his hand down his face. “Bet you ten rupees someone dies,” he says to Warriors.
“Wow. That’s a productive bet to make,” Time says, staring at Legend, and the other hero wrinkles his nose.
“Fine. Bet you ten rupees we’ll all hate this place by the time we’re done here,” he says.
“I’m not making that bet with you!” Warriors replies. “Are you kidding me?”
“What are you guys talking about?” Sky asks. “It’s beautiful here.” He inhales, smiling up at the sun. “Refreshing, I think. It’s nice to be able to see the sky again after so many trees…”
“Refreshing?” Wind frowns. “The air is so still and dry.”
“This place screams trap,” Legend says, turning to Warriors. “My original bet still stands. This field will do its best to kill us.”
“I agree with Hyrule!” Wild interjects. “We should stop arguing and start going .”
“We’re not running out there without a plan,” Twilight says. “This place is pretty, sure, but Legend has a point. I’ve got a bad feeling.”
“Oh, no.” Wind makes a face. “A bad feeling.”
“Well then, we should get out of here as soon as possible,” Hyrule says. “Since our ride’s a little bit gone-” he motions to the place where the portal is not, “-the only thing we can do is start walking.”
Twilight sighs and looks at Warriors. Warriors sighs and looks at Time. Time sighs and motions to the pair.
“Go ahead. Lead the way.”
Wild and Hyrule grin at each other, then start across the plain in a random direction. Everyone else follows with varying degrees of contentment, Sky smiling, eyes closed.
Wind walks up beside Warriors and latches onto his scarf, twisting it around his hands as he walks, staring off at the endless horizon.
“Weird, isn’t it?” Warriors says.
“It’s like the ocean, but…” He trails off. “Psychedelic.”
Warriors chuckles, wrapping an arm around his not-actually-but-still-feels-like-one little brother. “Where did you pick up that word?”
“How am I supposed to know? It’s part of my vocabulary.” Wind glares. “‘S not like I’m five.”
Warriors leans back, holding up his hands in front of him. “Woah, okay. I know you’re plenty mature, Wind. By Hylia, where did the sudden venom come from?”
Wind sighs, kicking at the stem of a blood-red flower, and avoids Warriors's eyes.
“I dunno, I guess… this place is just getting to me, is all.”
“Aw, come on. I’m sure there isn’t anything here we can’t handle.” Warriors grins. “After all, we’re heroes, huh, Wind?”
Wind bites his lip and remains silent.
“Wind?”
“Does Legend really think someone’s gonna die?” he blurts out, looking regretful when Warriors stares back at him in shock.
“Sorry, that’s a stupid question. I shouldn’t have said anything-”
Wind gasps as Warriors pulls him into a tight hug. After a moment of strained silence, he deflates, fisting both hands into Warriors’s scarf and leaning into the embrace.
“Sailor,” Warriors mutters into Wind’s hair. “Don’t tell anyone I said this, but that’s just Legend being his usual depressing self.”
Wind giggles. “Legend isn’t depressing,” he says, his voice muffled in the folds of Warriors's scarf.
“Yeah, well, he’s wrong, at least.” Warriors pulls back and stares Wind in the eyes. “ It is going to be okay . You hear me? Don’t let Mr. Seasoned Salt Depresso get you down.”
“Okay.” Wind laughs and finds himself tearing up. He rubs his hand across his eyes, willing himself not to cry. “Thanks, Warriors.”
“Anytime, kid.”
“Sure, old man,” he bites back, sticking out his tongue and jogging to catch up with the rest of the group.
“Hey, hey! Not cool. That’s Time’s title; I wouldn’t want to take it from him!” Warriors laughs, hurrying after the boy.
As sailor and knight bicker a few yards away, Four frowns down at the ground, staring at the colorful petals that pave their path and breathing in the stuffy-sweet air, and thinking.
****
A day filled with restless conversation has bled into a night so thick that nothing much can be seen, a night of tense silence and strange, buzzing energy. Twilight is antsy, bouncing his knee and drumming his fingers against the fabric of his bedroll. The day had been bright, almost unbearably so; now, nothing is visible. It’s almost as though some greater creature has spilled their ink pot over the land, and the pigment lays thick, clotting every particle of the air, staining the canvas of the world into an unrecognizable void of black. Silence glares at him from the shadows, swimming and sloshing deafeningly in his ears.
“Pup,” Time calls from across the camp, and Twilight’s head snaps up. “You want first watch?”
Twilight nods, grateful for the distraction.
“I’ll take second,” Warriors says.
“I can do third,” says Hyrule.
“Dibs on last!” Wind calls.
“Uh, no, young man, I don’t think so,” Warriors interjects. “You were up practically all night last night.”
“Like you’re one to talk,” Wind shoots back.
Time looks at the older hero, raising an eyebrow.
“Do you need someone else to take second watch for you, Captain?”
“I…” Warriors looks cornered. “Never mind.”
“Why would anyone want to take watch, anyway?” Sky mutters, unrolling his bedroll.
Twilight smiles and walks out of camp, plonking himself down in the flowers, lantern in hand. It doesn’t do much against the all-encompassing night beyond light up a yard in all directions, but screw the all-encompassing night. He’s using his lantern, dang it. At least, he’s using it for as long as he’s left alone with his thoughts, waiting for the others to fall asleep. It gives him some sense of power, no matter how false that sense is.
What’s had him on edge since the sun went down, he supposes, is the complete lack of stimulation. Sure, during the day, the field was just as silent as it is now, but at least then, sight gave one the idea of existence beyond the feeling of their feet planted on the ground. In front of him, what he knows to be the rest of the field seems to him the void itself, empty and yawning one moment and creeping into the edges of his tiny bubble of flickering firelight the next. He runs his empty hand along the dips and curves in the hilt of his sword, wondering if, when he shapeshifts, he’ll be able to make something out of nothing with his heightened senses. He doubts it.
It’s worth a try, he supposes. All there is to do is wait.
And wait he does, listening to the sounds of the other heroes dropping off to sleep and trying not to strain his eyes by peering into the darkness. The day had been long and filled with walking and stress, and despite the general air of anxiety in camp, everyone soon seems to be asleep. The glow of the campfire is gentle against their faces, and their features are stained with vivid wildberry juice-light. After a moment, Twilight stands, setting his lantern down beside his bedroll, and walks a ways out of camp to shift.
His wolf form is warm and familiar, and it no longer hurts to shift; the magic leaves him with nothing but a strange resonant sensation in his bones and a whole lot more body hair. He takes a moment to shake out his fur, then turns his attention outward.
Nothing seems any different, at least, at first it doesn’t.
He takes a long sniff of the still night air, and the only thing there is sweaty hero and overwhelming pollen. He can’t smell the earthy scent of the ground over the perfume of the flowers, not even when he puts his nose to the ground. Even the scent of his companions is faint.
His eyes are useless, too; he can’t see anything beyond what was visible before in the light of the fire. That leaves his ears, and he closes his eyes, tuning in to the world of sound. He hears silence before him, silence that seems to scream now that he’s listening, and he focuses to his back, where he can make out the crackling of the dying embers and the soft breathing of his sleeping companions…
Twilight’s ear pricks, and he turns around. Someone is having a nightmare . There’s a breathing pattern that doesn’t fit in, rough and erratic and obvious when juxtaposed against the nothing around him. He scans the camp to see Wild, curled up tight, clutching at the edge of his bedroll. The shadows from the light of the embers are harsh against his scrunched-up face, highlighting his scars in dim, glimmering light.
Twilight walks over to the hero, brushing his cold, wet nose against Wild’s clammy face. Wild’s eyes snap open and he sits bolt upright. The champion looks around wildly for a second before his wide eyes lock onto Twilight’s. He slumps forward, rubbing his eyes.
“Thanks, Twi,” Wild mumbles.
Twilight curls around his protege’s back and he leans back, resting his head in the thick fur of Twilight’s side.
“It’s… it’s this place, I think.” Wild shifts into his side, tangling his hands in Twilight’s fur. “Something about it… I feel cornered. It’s so wrong .”
Twilight makes a deep rumbling sound and licks Wild’s fingers. The hero affords him a chuckle.
“Where would I be without you?” Wild sighs, scratching Twilight behind the ears.
Twilight leans into the scratching, and Wild’s still-tense form begins to relax. Twilight revels in the sound of his protege’s slowing breaths.
“G’night,” Wild whispers.
Twilight watches as Wild closes his eyes, drifting back off. It only takes a few minutes for his breathing to completely even out.
Twilight lifts his head, reopening his senses. Everything is just as empty as before. The ground underneath him feels lifeless and cold and empty. Now that he thinks about it, he hasn’t seen a single insect the whole day.
It’s like the flowers are the only thing alive , he thinks.
He takes a long, deep sniff of the crisp night air. He stares into the fading embers of the fire. Something flickers in the corner of his vision.
Twilight’s head snaps around and he tenses, staring into the darkness.
There’s nothing there.
I could’ve sworn… Twilight is reluctant to get up with Wild still atop him, and instead focuses all his senses outward. He holds his breath, his eyes darting back and forth. What was that?
Then, he sees it again. Across camp, there is a flash of green light. Twilight narrows his eyes. Wait a minute…
If Twilight focuses, really focuses, there’s a lot he can sense when he’s in his wolf form, a lot more than sights, scents, sounds, more than tastes and sensations, more than the cold, hair-pricking feeling from the back of one’s neck or the removed realization that one is being watched. Twilight has now realized that, though he has been paying careful attention to his surroundings, he hasn’t focused . Not really.
He does, now, and his world is awash in an eerie green glow.
He jumps to his feet with a yelp, losing his focus and throwing Wild off his side. The champion is awake in a second, leaping to his feet. The others are waking up, too, rising with swords drawn and varying degrees of consciousness. The field is silent and dark and empty.
“What is it, Wolfie?” Wild asks. “What’s wrong?”
Twilight focuses again, straining to keep hold of his senses. He can see now that the area is teeming with spirit-like creatures, though he can’t make out any shape in any of them. They’re all swirling green masses of energy, eerie and glowing in a way that simultaneously feels blinding and feels as though it isn’t alight at all. Twilight growls at them, his tail lashing as he cranes his neck to see all the way around him. He can make out nothing more than the vague outline of Wild through the mess of creatures, and the hair on his back is prickling. The spirits are whispering, calling out to him in weak, clamouring voices. Some feel familiar, as though they had been some kind creature when they had been alive, but the rest are strange and terrifying and insidious, and they are screaming his name.
Link! Link! Link!
He cannot understand half of the cacophony of their voices, but he can tell that they are screaming his name.
He struggles to take in enough breath, a familiar overwhelmed feeling flooding his senses. In a panic, he lunges forward, snapping at the wall of creatures in front of him, but his jaws go straight through them and Warriors is stumbling back with a shout.
“What the h*ll, Wolfie!”
Twilight unfocuses, shrinking back from Warriors's angry voice. The whispers of the creatures echo in his ears, persistent and feathery, and he shakes himself hard. His fur refuses to lay flat, no matter how steady he forces his breathing.
“Wolfie.” Time is kneeling next to him, his eyebrows pulled together. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s gone feral, that’s what!” Warriors hisses, eyeing the wolf.
Twilight’s eyes dart from side to side. He knows the spirits are there, and he hates not being able to see or hear them, but the thought of delving back into the swarm of green light and whispers leaves him shaky, his stomach turning and roiling; he doesn’t dare reopen his senses. The restless anxiety that followed him all day has grown louder, though, more persistent now that he knows the source, and he feels a growl rumbling in the back of his throat as he turns around, staring into the shadows, his tail lashing.
“I don’t like this,” he hears Time say. “It might be wise to pack up camp and keep walking for a while.”
“When it’s this dark?” Warriors refutes. “We can’t see a thing, and our lanterns do nothing! The creature’s probably just spooked. All of us are, it’s nothing different.”
“We could be in danger here, and I don’t want to be asleep when whatever’s out there attacks us,” says Legend.
“What will be dangerous is when we’re all sleep-deprived out here tomorrow,” Warriors says.
“Wolfie has never been wrong before.” Wild is running his hand down Twilight’s back, and he leans into it, struggling to pull himself out of his frenzied panic.
“I suppose you’re right. I just-” Warriors sighs. “I’ve seen what lack of sleep can do, is all.”
The heroes hurry to pack, Four shaking Sky awake. Twilight slips away from the group to shift back, careful to make sure he’s invisible in the dark before activating the Twili magic. He takes a moment to reorient himself, shaking the tingling out of his limbs. He starts making his way back toward the light of the others's lanterns when his toe lands against something hard. He kneels down runs an experimental finger across it. It’s cold and smooth. He lights his lantern, fumbling with the door.
Before him, half-buried in earth, sits a human skull, fronds of lavender growing through the eye sockets.
*
Breeze of nectar
Stem of green
Gilded petal
Scarlet stream
*